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Quoth Sir Benedict loud-voiced, and pointing to the grim array: "Behold, lord Duke, hither have I brought thee five hundred archers and pike-men, with three hundred knights and men-at-arms, and each and every a man well tried and chosen, all vowed to follow thee and smite in Pentavalon's cause even as I, their lord, that do love thee for thy noble father's sake and for thine own sweet and knightly worth!"
ROGER. "O day most blessed, since woman's love hath lifted thee from death and shall be thy glory and Pentavalon's salvation, master!" "Roger Roger, speak you of the Duchess Helen? What mean you, man?" ROGER. "There be signs and portents, master, the very air is full o' them. Whiles we tarry here, others be up and doing " BELTANE. "Others, Roger?" ROGER. "Notably Walkyn o' the Axe, master!"
Now as they advanced, Beltane beheld at last where, high above embattled walls and towers, rose Pentavalon's mighty keep wherein he had been born; and, remembering his proud and gentle mother, he drooped his head and grieved; and bethinking him of his proud and gentle Helen, he took fresh grip upon his sword, and lengthening his stride, looked where Black Ivo's broken columns, weary with battle, grim with blood and wounds, already began to ride 'neath the city's frowning gateway, while hard upon their straggling rearguard Duke Beltane's lion banner fluttered.
Verily art well named, lord Beltane, since in thee Pentavalon's winter is passed away and spring is come O happy season of Beltane, O season of new beginnings and new hopes! So, my lord Beltane, may it ever be Beltane with thee, may it be sweet spring ever within thy noble heart. God keep thee and farewell." So saying the Pardoner turned about, and plunging into the dense green, was gone.
So by reason of this poor second rogue, Pentavalon doth rejoice in freedom. To-day is singing on every village green happiness is in the very air, for 'tis Pentavalon's Beltane, and Beltane is a sweet season; so doth this poor second rogue find him recompense.
Verily thy words have fired e'en this shrivelled heart o' mine till I, even as they, methinks, do burn to fight Pentavalon's cause, to shield her from woeful shame and ha! such vile sights as yon!"
A desperate hewing and thrusting in the narrow gateway, and Black Ivo's shattered following were driven in and the narrow streets and alleys of the town full of battle and slaughter. Street by street the town was won until before them loomed the mighty keep of Pentavalon's ducal stronghold.
Whereat says Beltane, wondering: "What do ye, good Roger?" "Master, I mix thee thy decoction as She did instruct She is a learned youth, master Sir Fidelis. In these dried herbs and simples, look you, lieth thy health and strength and Pentavalon's freedom aye, a notable youth in faith, thy Duchess."
"Of Mortain!" she whispered, "an thou wilt wed me, my lord." "Nay," stammered Beltane, "nay, outcast am I, my friends very few to wed thee thus, therefore, were shame " "To wed me thus," said she, "should be my joy, and thy joy, and Pentavalon's salvation, mayhap. O, see you not, Beltane?
"Then will I come," whispered Roger hoarse and eager, as the friar turned slow-footed to follow the others adown the slippery stair, "beseech thee, lord, thy man am I, twice sworn to thee till death, so suffer me beside thee." "Nay," said Beltane, "Pentavalon's need of thee is greater e'en than mine, therefore will I adventure this thing alone.
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